


The Tutor

by linsinbin



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Kitchen Sex, NSFW, Professor - Freeform, Rough Fuck, Sex, Teacher/Student
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linsinbin/pseuds/linsinbin
Summary: Gwilym Lee is your (very gorgeous) English professor, and he’s agreed to tutor you one-on-one for your latest dissertation. Although, the dissertation is perhaps not the only thing he tutors you on.





	1. Chapter 1

Nerves were eating away at you as you paced down the fading cement of the pavement. Wind whistled in your ears as you strode quickly, an innate attempt to escape the rain that battered down over your head. Even despite it being late Summer, the weather far lived up to its British stereotype, leaving you drenched through. 

At the end of the road, you turned left, only minutes away from your destination, yet this only made you more anxious, terrified of embarrassing yourself upon arrival. As you neared the house, you gnawed instinctively on your bottom lip, hoping to ease your fear. 

Then you were at the gate, and suddenly you didn't care about being stuck in the rain, because it ultimately seemed a safer option than being alone with him, risking the possibility of sheer embarrassment in front of the hottest teacher you'd ever met. Regardless, you knew you had to arrive, and knocked on the door accordingly, hands shaking restlessly.

You stood outside the house, which was oddly picturesque considering it's location in the city. The walls were a gentle cream, and in contrast, the door was painted a vibrant emerald, unlike every other in the street. You could hear the movement from behind the door, the soft patter of feet against wooden flooring, the quiet aggravation when unable to find keys. Finally, the lock twisted audibly, and you were greeted with the familiar - and annoyingly gorgeous - face of your professor.

"Y/N! Just on time. Come in." Professor Lee, or as he asked you to call him, Gwilym, held the door open, welcoming you into the small entrance way to his home. 

It was only once you were inside that he noticed how drenched you were, and he immediately leapt into action.

"God, you're soaked. I could have driven to get you or something. Here, take your coat off, I'll get you a jumper or sometime to change into." 

He disappeared up the stairs to your right, and you watched him leave, eyeing the length of his legs in the deliciously tight pair of jeans he always opted for. When he was gone, you slipped your jacket off, hanging it upon the coat rack and watching as raindrops dripped miserably onto the floor. Frowning, you stood in your thin jumper and skirt, shivering against the cold air. 

He came back down quickly, passing a jumper into your open hands. You felt a smile flood your features at the sheer warmth of it, and you slipped into the bathroom, discarding your old sweater for the new one Gwilym had offered you. On return, he looked a little less concerned, and he led you to the kitchen, where a large dining table sat as the centre feature to the room.

"Much better. Would you like some coffee before we start?" 

You nodded appreciatively, and as he ambled over to the kettle, filling it at the sink and leaving it to boil, you hopped up to sit upon the dining table. You let your legs dangle over the edge as you pulled the sleeves of the sweater over your hands, desperate to keep warm. Gwilym kept himself busy, filling the mugs with the ingredients just as you liked, before turning back to you, two mugs filled to the brim in hand.

As he turned, his eyes flickered down, drinking in your body carefully. You felt his gaze travelling up your bare legs, admiring you in his jumper as he carried the two mugs over, placing them down on the table beside you.

"Making yourself comfortable, eh?" He teased, leaning back against the countertop opposite, sending you a wink as he sipped at the boiling mug.

"Sorry. I probably should've used a seat, huh?" You rambled back, blushing slightly with embarrassment as you wrapped your hands around the mug.

"Not at all. I don't mind, as long as you're happy, love." 

You swore you choked on your coffee right then and there. Love. The word alone, in his gorgeous English lilt, caught your breath in your throat and you were speechless, feeling a certain wetness pooling between your thighs.

"Perhaps we should start? At least with a discussion." He raised an eyebrow, staring you down from over the brim of his mug.

"So I'm writing on Lady Chatterley's Lover..." 

"Yes! D.H. Lawrence. And what about?" He queried, leaning forward slightly as his interests peaked.

You shifted slightly on your seat, grimacing at the cold fabric of your still soaked skirt underneath you.

"That's what I'm trying to establish. There's so much I could discuss, I just need some help." You sighed, brushing your fingers through your hair.

"I think the importance of sex is key here." He paused, giving you a moment to process his words, and yet you were so sure your heart had stopped that you weren't certain you could. 

Sex. The word leaving his mouth was heavenly, almost pornographic and you felt yourself gripping the edge of the table for something to focus on other than the dripping heat between your legs.

"Lawrence portrays the importance of sex in relation to love. How we all need that... physical connection to help our emotions blossom." 

You watched, mouth agape as Gwilym moved closer to you. He stood just before you, staring down due to his height. Instinctively, your legs parted ever so slightly, wishing he would slide between them, but the reality was that it was unlikely he even noticed.

"I suppose you're right. Lawrence ignores society's negative connotations of sex. He makes it natural, instinctive. Like we were born with that innate need to..." You trailed off, blushing at the possibilities of where the sentence could have taken you.

"Yes. That innate need to make love?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly opting for the easy way out, but you let out a chuckle at his choice of words.

"Make love? Really, Professor? Could you have chosen a more awkward way to say it?" You laughed, watching his lips turn up into a smirk as you spoke.

"What would you prefer, shag? Fuck? You kids are graphic these days, huh?" 

You let out an audible inhale, biting at your lip as you looked up at him. You realised now he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and with his body so close, you were finding yourself desperate for that contact. 

"I guess we are. Maybe I ought to teach you a thing or two about what us kids say these days. What we do." You shrugged, surprising yourself with how confident you came across.

"I think you'd be surprised by how much I know, love. I'm the teacher, after all." His hands fell to your exposed thighs, eyes falling to the short wet skirt that still draped itself over your figure.

"I think you ought to get out of that skirt. You're going to catch a cold in it, love." He leant in as he mumbled softly into your ear, so close you could feel his breath travelling down your neck, inducing a shiver as you nodded.

He reached around behind you, sliding the zipper down with precision before helping you wiggle out of it. He dropped it to the floor with a definitive slap before moving himself between your open thighs, hands falling to your hips with a grin.

"Much better. Although maybe I ought to warm you up. Wouldn't want my star pupil to get ill." His words had you speechless, dumbfounded at this gorgeous man's forward approach, and so you solely nodded, biting back a moan as his fingers moved downwards.

"You don't talk an awful lot, hm? Speak for me, love. Wanna hear your words."

You gulped back your nervous anticipation, nodding fervently as he spread your legs a little further, exposing the wet patch on your panties to the cold open air, making you gasp. His smile was devilish as he drunk in the view that lay out just for him. 

"What do you want, my love? You look so perfect for me, wearing my sweater and nothing else." He drove you wild with his fingers digging into your thighs, intoxicated by his touch.

"Want your mouth, Sir. Need it. Please." You whined, looking up at him so helplessly it made it him harder almost instantaneously.

He dipped his head, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as his hands worked away at your underwear. Lifting your hips, he slid the thin material past your thighs and down to join your skirt in its haphazard pile on the floor. Then, before much else could be said, his head disappeared between your lips, the hot sensation of his breath against your cunt sending shivers down your spine.

The heat of his breath disappeared momentarily as a long finger slid across your soaked slit, leading up to fumble your clit deftly. The quick movement made you grip the table, desperate for something solid to keep you sane as an obscene moan stumbled from your lips. 

Your eyes rolled backwards as his lips connected with your pussy, his tongue brushing ever so slightly across your slit, clearing up your wetness. Your fingers fell down, tangling themselves amidst his hair as you called out for him blindly, engulfed in pleasure.

"Fuck, Sir. Feels so good!" You squealed, squirming slightly - his hands soon came to meet your thighs, pinning them down to the table to restrict your movement.

You wiggled your hips still, though, and his nose brushed against your clit, eliciting a shocked gasp of delight as you felt a knot growing in your stomach. Still, his tongue worked, lapping against your slit as his hands squeezed down on your thighs. You could almost feel the proud smirk on his lips. 

"Sir, I'm- Fuck!" 

"Are you gonna cum for me, love? Cum all over my tongue. You taste so wonderful." He mumbled softly against you, the vibration bringing you closer to the edge as you nodded, tipping your head back.

With only a loud moan in response, a wave of euphoria washed over you that made your knees shake, barely able to control yourself as your fingers tugged desperately at Gwilym's hair. He held you tightly against his face, ensuring he could extend your orgasm until it's eventual end. 

As he stood, the tent that had formed in his jeans was beyond ignorable. You pulled him closer again, fingers working smoothly against the small, tortoise-shell buttons of his white shirt. He watched you, almost nervously, as he slid the shirt off of his shoulders, admiring your efforts against the button of his jeans. With little more effort, you'd managed to drop them to the floor, leaving him standing in the restricting pair of briefs alone. 

"Let me help you, Sir." You looked up at him, innocent eyes pleading with him as you prepared to drop to your knees before him, but he shook his head.

"No time, my love. I could have came just watching you. Need to feel that pretty little cunt around me," he hummed softly, toying with the waistband of the sweater you still wore. With ease, he'd soon discarded of that too.

You lay before him on the cold wooden countertop, nipples stiff from the chill and the pleasure. He stood in front of you, lips turned up into a cocky smirk as he stripped down to equal your naked state. Two powerful hands fell down to catch your thighs, pushing them apart to expose the pool of wetness between your legs to the freezing air. 

Before long, however, the space in between your thighs was filled as he positioned himself amidst you. A relieved sigh forced its way past your lips as he pressed into you, slowly but surely bottoming out in his first stroke as his chest pressed firmly against yours. The heat of his body on yours was enough to make you moan, but as he began to move, the sounds of your pleasure became uncontrollable. 

His hands fell to your hips, gripping onto you tightly as his thrusts quickened, hips snapping up to push his cock further into you. The feeling of your professor, a man who should have been entirely off limits, burying himself deep inside of you was like no other, and to top it off, he was undeniably skilled. 

As he continued to move against you quickly, his cock pounding into you so harshly you could see stars, you called out for him blindly, jaw falling slack as he hit your g-spot with every precise thrust. His hand fell below your waist, and his fingers drew circles onto your already sensitive clit, eliciting a louder moan as he worked against you.

“Sir! Fuck me, please!” You couldn’t help calling out for him, your words slurred between your pants and moans.

“So fucking tight for me, sweetheart. So fucking good,” he mumbled, grunting as he harshly gripped your waist and pulled you closer, thrusting down into you as he pushed your legs back for easier access.

You could feel it now, the tightening sensation in your abdomen growing as the all too familiar ecstasy began to hit you in waves. You were going to cum around your professor’s cock — the thought of that alone set you off, the dirty, forbidden notion of fucking Gwilym enough to make you cum. 

“Cum for me, darling. You’re so good for me, sweetheart.” His reassuring words, so dirty as they tumbled from his lips, dripping with enthusiasm, were enough to finish you off.

Back arching as your orgasm racked through you, you came all over him, chest pressing against his own as you convulsed with the second round of pure ecstasy rushing through your veins. You were certain he wouldn’t last a whole lot longer, and the strained look of utter concentration and lust on his face was enough to confirm you were right.

It was utterly pornographic to watch your professor come undone in front of you. A stream of expletives tumbling from his lips, you felt him finish inside of you, your cunt trembling as his cum leaked out of you onto the wooden table beneath you. He pressed his forehead against yours, gasping for breath as he finished, slowing with a few sloppy thrusts, utterly satisfied with his work.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting out a tired chuckle as he wrapped an arm around your naked frame. 

“You’re cold. Should we continue the studying up in my room? Preferably under the covers?” He smiled softly as the cold chill hit once again, amplified due to the sweat that coated your skin now.

“I think that’s a good idea. Then we can discuss Lawrence again?” You quipped, teasing slightly as you jumped off the table, taking his hand as you both padded barefoot across the tile flooring.

“Very funny. I’m not quite finished with you just yet, sweetheart.” 

Climbing the stairs two at a time, you could already tell what was coming next. And God, were you ready for it.


	2. The Seminar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the less than PG tutoring session, tensions are riding high in your next seminar. Plus, Gwil has a question.

Running in the rain seemed to be a reoccurrence lately, it seemed, as you raced across campus towards Professor Lee's room, decidedly very late already as a result of the coffee you had gripped tightly in your hand. As you reached his door, hair dripping due to the downpour and a cup of coffee in hand that had seemingly lost most of their heat, your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment and you slipped inside.

"Decided to join us? We were wondering where you'd gotten to,"

"Sorry," you quipped quickly in response, sitting in the only spare seat, which happened to be almost directly beside your Professor. Just your luck.

Ever since you'd had sex, the tension had skyrocketed, so much so you began to worry that your other classmates would notice. Every glance you stole towards your Professor made your cheeks heat up and more importantly, opened up a dam between your legs that left you irritated and irrationally horny.

"Now everyone's here," Gwilym commented, granting you a pointed look specifically in your direction. "Shall we discuss Lolita?"

A hum of contentment settled around your fellow students, most of whom were girls who took great interest in one thing. This, undoubtedly, was Professor Lee, who's good looks had clearly caught on to more than just you.

"What did everyone think? Any first time readers?" He asked, and a few girls in the back timidly raised their hands, much to Gwilym's amusement as his lips turned up into a sly smile. 

"What did you think... Erica?" He paused before her name, not for dramatic effect, but because it was fairly obvious he knew very few of the group's names, most likely a result of their frankly quite tedious additions to the discussion.

"I think," she started, biting her lip in an attempt to look seductive - you thought she just looked childishly foolish. "That it was hard to read, as a feminist. It unsettled me how little she really stood up for herself."

Gwilym stared back at her momentarily, nodding his head thoughtfully as if he was taking in what she said. You could tell from the slight twitch of his eye that he thought it was bullshit, but that was besides the point. He peered around at the rest of you, hoping someone else would speak up to make a little more sense.

"Anyone else agree? Or want to elaborate on what... Erica said."

"I think Erica's right." It was a voice from the back, and one glance over confirmed your suspicions that it was Paige, who often acted pretentiously in regard to her supposedly superior knowledge of all things English Lit.

"It was nauseating to read from Humbert's point of view, especially when he hardly receives a real punishment for his actions towards poor Lolita." Paige pouted for good measure alongside her comment, as if trying to take the sympathy from the character and place it onto herself for some bizarre reason you couldn't quite place. 

Gwilym nodded again, saying nothing, but you felt his eyes bore into you, as if hoping you'd have something of value to add to the conversation.

"I think that's what makes it such a feminist text, if that's what you're searching for. That's how the patriarchy and male privilege works, isn't it? By deliberately sidelining female characters and ignoring consequences, it satirically mirrors society. At least, that's what I felt," you added, offering Paige a smile that she returned, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"I think you're right, Y/N. Nabakov writes from this perspective of Humbert to show this sexual desire," he paused, and you could have sworn you felt his foot rub against your leg. "Through the writing, he really shows how Humbert is justifying this subjugation of women. It's perverse, and difficult to read, but that's what makes it so meaningful."

Satisfied with his response, you sat back, allowing yourself to stretch your leg out beneath the high table and brush the sole of your foot across his calves. Watching him, you saw the ghost of a smirk settle on his lips, but it was quickly disparaged as he moved on to another section of the text. 

The hour-long seminar dragged on dreadfully slowly, and although you chimed in every so often, it was painful to watch the juvenile analysis your classmates offered up in hopes of impressing Gwilym. You couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction as he often sided with your arguments, backing you up with the most eloquent of rebuttals that left a fire burning in your belly, making you want him more than you already did. More importantly, it seemed to drag by whenever Gwilym's hand fell to your leg, brushing his thumb up your skirt and along your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you wanted him so very badly. Hoping to ease him away, you kept your foot against him, easing it upwards whenever you found it possible without drawing too much attention. You were certain, without even the shadow of a doubt, that he was about as hard as you were wet - very.

By the time the hour was up, most students were rushing out of the room to make next hour lectures, or simply in hopes of making it home to their beds as an escape from the academia. Some took their time, admiring Professor Lee as they did in hopes of catching his attention as their batted their eyelashes and giggled flirtatiously around him. He seemed to take no notice, though, and his eyes trained to you as you leaned over to ask him a question, not too close in fear that someone would become suspicious.

"Professor Lee, may I ask you something about the text? I need some help analysing Nabakov's mind-frame and intentions as he wrote Lolita."

"I have office hours now, if you'd like to move next door for an in depth chat?" He questioned, smiling at you with a look that only you could process and jerking his head towards the door which lead to his office.

"Sounds perfect," you nodded, and as you stood, grabbing your bag, you hitched your skirt up ever so slightly, allowing it to flounce just below your arse as you walked ahead of him into the attached room. 

Behind you, the swarms of disappointed females exited, watching you with green-eyed envy as you disappeared with Professor Lee through the door.

"God, they are intolerable, aren't they?" You hummed, throwing yourself down on the desk and crossing your legs as he shut the door behind you. You heard him laugh, shaking his head at you as he turned, tossing his bag aside as he leant back against the door, taking the sight of you in. There were only a few mere feet between you, but it felt like miles when all you desperately wanted was to feel him between your legs, pressing himself inside of you.

"As your Professor, I'm not allowed to indulge my opinion on fellow students," he replied thoughtfully, moving closer to you as his hands fell to brush across your thighs, separating them so he could slip easily between.

"And as my Professor, I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be fucking me either, but here we are." He rolled his eyes, dipping his head to press a smooth kiss to the column of your throat, making you shiver. 

His grip on your thighs tensed as he raised his head, pressing his forehead to yours as he mumbled back to you, so quietly it was merely a whisper.

"I don't see you complaining," he offered, his fingers sliding up your inner thighs to press against the cotton of your panties. "And I'd suggest you tone down the sass, or else you'll have to find another Professor to fuck, hm?"

His words gave you chills, and if you weren't already, you could tell your panties were flooded now, practically dripping just from his voice alone. The dainty feeling of his forefinger pressing against your clothed clit was enough to make you moan softly into his ear, and you wiggled your hips impatiently, searching desperately for more.

"No time for foreplay, Sir. I need you in me," you murmured into his ear, reaching out to palm him through the front material of his slacks. 

A gruff moan tumbled from his lips, and you could feel his lips on your neck against, teasing you with the delicate nibble of his teeth against your skin as he traced hickeys across your neck. Your free hands worked to unbuckle his belt, tugging down his trousers as quickly as you could to release his cock, which bounced up, smacking him in the stomach. You smirked, pleased to know you'd successfully made him that horny having just teased him briefly. 

"Do you want me, Sir?" You moaned as he tugged harshly at your panties, discarding them in a pile on the red carpet below. "Do you need me?"

Your words made him delirious, and he pulled you into a rough embrace, kissing you with such fervour it knocked the air from your lungs. You loved when he did this, reminding you that he wasn't just entirely into you the sex. Perhaps, you thought for a moment, if he weren't your Professor this would be something more, but the prospect just made me lonely and wishful, and you quickly pushed it to the back of your mind as he pressed his cock against you, slicking himself up.

"You know I do, love. And I plan to take what I want," he mumbled into your ear before slowly pushing into you. 

In fact, it was painfully slow, and you whined, bucking your hips in hopes that he would speed up. Instead, he chuckled at your whimpers, gripping onto your hips to pin you down against his desk. His movements were slow, every thrust filling you to the hilt, but you couldn't muffle your moans and squeals for more. You needed him harder, filling you up as he fucked you relentlessly, and he knew it - he just had too much fun teasing you.

"Please, Gwil. Need you."

His eyes perked up at the mention of his name, his real name, tumbling so perfectly from your lips. He knew right then that you needed him, all kinks and secret rendezvous aside. Leaning down, his lips connected with yours as he began to speed up, his hips crashing against you as he moved inside of you. 

"So good for me, sweetheart. So fucking wet for me." 

His words sent a shock of shivers through you, and before you could recover, you felt the familiar sensation of his fingers working in circles against your clit, eliciting a moan so loud you swore they'd have heard it in the corridor outside. Shooting you a look of teacherly look of disapproval, he clamped a hand across your mouth, shaking his head as a smirk settled on his lips instead. You knew that as much as he willed you to be quiet, he loved the way you moaned as he buried himself inside you. 

By the look on his face, you could tell he was getting closer, and so were you, considering how skilfully he was slamming his cock into you, making you see stars as you clung onto his shoulders for support. Had it not been for his palm pressed tightly across your mouth, you'd have released another excessive moan as he slammed hard against your g-spot, making your toes curl at the very sensation. 

"Am gonna cum, Gwil," you moaned softly, words slurred against his hand.

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, skirt bundled up around your waist as he pushed himself inside of you. There was a little more than lust in his eyes, you thought, as you met his gaze, but that thought was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as you turned your focus to the growing sensation in your stomach.

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he mumbled, speeding up as his hips snapped into you. "You're doing so well for me, Y/N."

That was enough encouragement for you. Almost instantly, you came around him, feeling yourself come undone around his cock. It was euphoric as you leant back against the desk, feeling yourself trembling in his embrace while you sat amidst the paperwork waiting to be marked. Looking up, Gwilym was biting his lip in concentration, and the sensation of his cock twitching inside of you as you came suggested he was going to cum shortly after. 

"Wanna feel you, Sir," you whined, breathy and spent as you shot him as innocent a glance as you could muster, considering his cock was buried inside of you. 

God, you'd never get tired of watching him do this. The grunt that escaped him was pornographic, and you couldn't help but let out a whimper of delight as your heart skipped a beat just watching him. His jaw fell slack, and you felt his cum drip out of you, dribbling down your thighs as he pulled out.

"God, you're perfect." He grinned, falling back into his seat on the other side of the desk, his eyes never leaving you. "I hope you don't have any more classes today."

"Thankfully I'm done for the week."

You reached for a tissue on the edge of his desk, cleaning yourself up haphazardly before dropping yourself into his lap, earning a breathy chuckle as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You rested your head against his shoulder, catching your breath and inhaling his aftershave thoughtfully.

"How about we celebrate?" He offered, smiling down at you as you nuzzled closer to him, forgetting momentarily that he was your Professor.

"You're ready for round two already? Give me a minute," you laughed, lifting your head only to catch his expression changing from content to troubled.

"No, no. I mean," he paused, treading carefully with his words. "I mean we could catch a drink somewhere."

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest. God, you wanted to say yes, but your throat went dry as your mind flashed to the consequences. You could see him waiting, desperate for a yes, but the last thing you wanted was to jeopardise his career. 

"I want to," you stopped, breath hitched in your throat, and he sighed.

"But?" 

You could hear the dejection in his voice, and it startled you. You'd thought, if anything, you were more into him than otherwise, but perhaps you'd be wrong. 

"I don't want it to hurt you. You're my Professor, Gwil." You frowned, and you felt his grip tighten on you subconsciously. 

"I know. But if I'm honest, I sort of want to take the risk. I like you, Y/N."

Hearing him say it made you tense all over, yet waves of joy washed over you at the very notion. How could someone as gorgeous and intelligent as your Professor actually take any proper interest in you? It baffled you into silence.

"That sounded terribly juvenile, didn't it? God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything," he started, but his words were quickly trapped by an embrace as you quietened him with a kiss.

It lasted for a moment, brushing against each other in a silent agreement. You could feel the upturn of his lips against yours, and the makings of a smile as you kissed, causing you to wriggle closer in his lap. When you pulled away, there was a brief moment of hesitation before you spoke.

"I'd like that very much," you said confidently, eliciting a contented breath of relief as he held you. "Shall we speak about the logistics of liking each other over that drink then?"

You both laughed then, at the childish notion of liking each other, and you stood, allowing him to redress and sort himself, grabbing his belongings before leaving together through the door.


End file.
